


In Good Faith

by visiblemarket



Series: Tumblr Prompts [7]
Category: Star Wars: Shattered Empire
Genre: F/M, being happy together, here they are, my favorite space latinx couple, nothing bad will ever happen to these two ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visiblemarket/pseuds/visiblemarket
Summary: “You did the right thing,” Kes says, while Shara’s still staring at their hands.She doesn’t meet his gaze. “You don’t know that."“I knowyou.” Simply, calmly. Like that’s enough for him. Shara glances over. He smiles, and nods, once, swiftly. “You did what you had to do."





	

**Author's Note:**

> [ Prompted](http://morethanonepage.tumblr.com/post/157843907496/i-like-what-you-do-with-the-dam-fam-so-how-about) by [believeinthe13](http://believeinthe13.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

She lets her head fall back against the medcot, folds her arms over her chest, and sighs.

She can hear droids chattering behind her — something about inconsistent readings, about unprecedented levels of radiation — and stares up at the white, smooth ceiling.

Her eyes prickle, and her neck aches. Exhaustion, and the price of keeping her head held high during the dressing down she got from Crynyd. Kela’d given her a particularly pointed look as well, but there wasn’t much to be done about that. She’d disobeyed direct orders and risked her life and, perhaps most importantly, her ship; those things have consequences. She will deal with them, or, she supposes, she won’t — if the shield around her A-wing failed and she’s living on borrowed time, well…there’ll be other things to worry about, then.  

She completed her mission — one less Imperial lab where they did unspeakable work was as good a legacy to go out with as any, she figures.

If she’d waited any longer, for back up, for more detailed readings on the particles given off by the strange, purple star the planet orbited, the site would’ve been evacuated, its projects packed up and sent out some other far corner of the galaxy, and they wouldn’t’ve gotten another chance.

She did the right thing — she believes it, to her core, and L’ulo had backed her up on it at the time. But she’s not about to bring him down with her and it’d been her choice, her payload that took the building out, her ship subjected to waves of unidentified particles that her A-wing was not designed to keep out.

Which is why she’s here, in quarantine, alone, ignored by the medical droids once they’d done their initial scan, kept apart from the rest of the patients on the ship for the time being, till they figure out what to do with her or decide if it’s safe for her to leave.

The wait (the _uncertainty_ ) is a greater punishment than any of her superiors could’ve designed — there’s nothing to do but wonder and worry, remember, think about how many times she’s been called _reckless_ and _impatient_ and _foolish_ , _selfish_.

_—nunca pienzas, niña, lo que haces, cómo me afecta, tu falta de—_

Huh. She blinks, and shakes her head. They’ll have to contact her father, if she dies. But not before then, she decides — no reason to bring him into this, no reason to prove him right.

Her head’s still a little woozy — Force, how long has it been since she’s slept? — and it takes her a while to realize, there’s an argument going on, outside the one in her head. Far enough away that she can’t hear the words, recognize the voices entirely, but there’s something familiar about them, and a clear undercurrent of anger and desperation coming through.

A door bangs open.

“Corporal, you can’t—“

“—look, buddy, I don’t got a problem with you, okay, but if you don’t—"

“Kes?” she says, sitting up, hurrying to the wall of blue-tinged transparisteel separating them. It _is_ him — him, and one of the doctors, who has the fundamentally exhausted look of a man who’s just spent the last fifteen minutes trying to keep Kes Dameron from doing something he thinks it's his duty to do. “What are you…?"

“Hey, fly girl,” Kes says, acting as if he hasn’t just bullied his way into a secure medical facility. “How’s it going? You bored yet?"

“I’m—“ she glances at the doctor; Kes follows her gaze, and raises his eyebrows.

“Hey doc, give us a minute, okay?"

“Corporal—"

“Man, what do you think I’m gonna do here? Break the wall down?"

The doctor mumbles something that might be _it wouldn’t surprise me_ , but throws his hands up, and goes.

The door shuts behind him, and Kes turns back to her: “Hey. _Hey_ ,” he says, tone softer, as he steps closer to the barrier. “How’re you? They treating you all right in there?

“I—“ she takes a breath. “Fine. They’ve been running tests, but I’m—“ she shrugs. “I don’t know. They can’t tell yet."

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says, with classic Dameron certainty: unshakeable, but somewhat unjustified. “Gonna be right here with you the whole time, okay?"

She nods, though a part of her doubts it: she knows he’ll stay as long as he can, but if something comes up, if his unit gets called out...

“How did you find out?” she asks, though she’s got a pretty good idea.

“L’ulo,” Kes confirms, and she sighs, sliding down to the floor, sitting cross legged before the smooth, clear wall. Kes follows, watching her carefully. “Gave me a pretty good rundown until when you went off comms. No one’s quite sure what happened to you out there."

He’s asking without asking about as loudly as a person can. Shara sighs. “I don’t know either.” It’s the first time she’s said so, out loud. “I hit the target, but on the way out, there was a flare of this—light, and I just…” she shakes her head. “I don’t remember.” She remembers a little more: a smell, scorched and strong, flooding the cockpit. “Not till I was clear and back with the squadron. I think I passed out."

It sounds bad, when she says it like that — she put herself at risk, she put the squad at risk. If she’d crashed — and she could well have crashed — the Empire would’ve gotten its hands on a rebel ship and communication channels and possibly even clearance codes and the locations of the few bases they’ve managed to secure.

She can’t look at Kes; if he’s angry, if he thinks she’s reckless and selfish, if he realizes what a risk she ran and for no other reason than because she thought she knew better than everyone else, she doesn’t want to know it, not right now.

There’s a quick rap against the transparisteel. Shara glances up: Kes’s knocked his knuckle against it, and is now pressing his palm to the surface. He gives Shara a look, like she should know what he’s doing. She doesn’t, but presses her hand against the wall as well. The tips of his fingers rise up above hers — his hand is bigger, broader — and the material is too thick to let any body heat pass through. She feels a strange sort of warmth at the gesture anyway.

“You did the right thing,” Kes says, while Shara’s still staring at their hands.

She doesn’t meet his gaze. “You don’t know that."

_“_ I know _you_.” Simply, calmly. Like that’s enough for him. Shara glances over. He smiles, and nods, once, swiftly. “You did what you had to do."

“I did, huh?"

“Yeah,” he says. “And now you’re gonna let the doctors do their job, test whatever needs testin’, get some well-deserved rest in the meantime, and then when that’s all through and they’ve given you the all clear, I’m gonna be right here to take you home."

Home, Shara thinks — these days, the closest thing she has to home is cramped quarters on a distant ice planet. Or maybe — she glances down at their hands, pressed against each other, separated by a thick, cold pane — maybe it’s not.

Kes is still talking: “Gonna get you anything you need in the meantime, anything you want, I promise, and—"

“Marry me,” she hears herself say.  

Kes’s hand falls away. “What?"

Shara blinks. Has she misread this? Were they just meant to be casual, in his mind? Comfort, companionship, great — if infrequent, given their schedules — sex for the time being, but nothing permanent? She wouldn’t begrudge him that: it’d started about the same way for her, contemplating any other kind of relationship was madness, these days. Love was a luxury they couldn’t really afford and yet — she looks up at Kes, who’s still staring at her with wide eyes, whose mouth is slack with shock.

Well, if there’s anything she’s not, it’s a coward. She has to know. “I said…” she swallows, and gives a weak smile. “Will you—"

“Yes,” Kes says, practically slapping his hand back against the barrier, leaving them palm to palm again. "Are you kidding me?  _Yes_."

“Yes?"

“Yes, I’ll — _of course_ I’ll — Force _dammit_ , Shara Bey, how can you _ask_ me that when you’re in there and I’m out here and I can’t even—“ he laughs, ducks his head. “Can’t even reach in there and kiss you, _damn_ , woman, what are you _thinking_?"

She laughs too, high and nervous and a little hysterical, suddenly on the verge of tears — which is ridiculous, she hasn’t cried in years, hasn’t cried from happiness, ever. “That I want to be married to you, I guess?"

“Force knows why,” he says, looking up at her again, grinning. “But I made you a promise, fly girl, and I intend to keep it. Anything you want. Anything you need.”

Shara grins back, and brings her fingers to her lips; presses a kiss to them, and then pushes her fingertips against the wall. Kes hurries to do the same, and they sit like that for a moment, one set of palms parallel to each other, straining against the indifferent barrier, one set of fingertips trying to transmit a kiss.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” says Kes, sudden and serious, looking her straight in the eye. “That’ll _ever_ happen to me."

“You don’t know that,” she says, teasing him a little, knowing what the answer'll be, wanting to hear him say it.

“Guess not,” Kes says, and smiles. “But I know you."

*


End file.
